Fell on Black Days
by SnarkyMuch2
Summary: You can only take so much before you break. Since Dean returned from purgatory, Sam has been taking hits. This was one hit too many.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Fell on Black Days-Chapter One

**Author:** Snarkymuch

**Rating:** PG

**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Sam, Dean

**Warnings:** Suicide attempt in future chapters

**Spoilers:** Season 8

**Summary:** You can only take so much before you break. Since Dean returned from purgatory, Sam has been taking hits. This is one hit too many.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended.  
**AN**: Thanks to **clown_or_midget** for beta'ing.

Fell on Black Days

"Come on, Dean. I know it's not you in there pulling the strings," Sam said, putting up his hands as Dean pointed the gun at him.

"Shut up!" Dean snapped. He turned to look at Garth, who moved to reach for his gun. "Don't!"

Garth put up his hands in a placating gesture.

Sam took a breath, letting it out slowly. "Take it easy, Dean."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "You never even wanted this life. Always blamed me for pulling you back into it."

"That's not true," Sam said. He had never blamed Dean for it. It was part of the job and that was it.

"Really?" Dean said. "'Cause everything you've ever done since you climbed into my ride has been to deceive me."

"What do you want me to say? That I've made mistakes?" Sam said honestly. "I've made mistakes, Dean."

Garth looked over at Sam. "That's not Dean, Sam."

Dean's gaze snapped over to Garth. "Shut up!" He looked back over at Sam. "Mistakes? Well, let's go through some of Sammy's greatest hits." Dean kept the gun trained on Sam. "Drinking demon blood, check. Being in cahoots with Ruby. Not telling me that you lost your soul. Or how about running around with Samuel for a whole year, letting me think that you were dead while you're doing all kinds of crazy. Those aren't mistakes, Sam. Those are choices!"

Dean's words hit Sam hard. They each cut him like a knife because he knew how true they were. His life had been a chain of mistakes, and the only person to blame was himself. "All right. You said it. We've both played a little fast and loose."

Dean took a step closer to Sam. "Yeah, I might have lied, but I never once betrayed you. I never once left you to die. And for what, a girl? You left me to die for a girl?"

Sam had to swallow back the tears at Dean's words. He felt like a failure, and he knew he should. He had let his brother down in ways he could never redeem. He had thought he was doing what Dean wanted, what they had agreed on. But it was just another one of his failures to chalk up with the rest.

Suddenly, Garth charged forward and grabbed for the gun, pushing Dean's arm so the muzzle was no longer pointed at Sam.

"Back off, Garth!" Dean warned as he wrestled with him.

Dean got his hand free and reached for Garth's throat. Sam snapped into action and charged forward.

"Let him go, Dean!"

Dean just smirked at him and squeezed Garth's throat harder. Sam cocked back his fist and slammed it against Dean's jaw, sending him stumbling back.

He released Garth, who stepped back, rubbing at his throat.

Dean pointed the gun back at Sam.

"If you're gonna do it, just do it," Sam said. "Just get it over with." Sam squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the gun to fire.

"No!" Garth shouted as he charged forward towards Dean. He hit him in the side just as the gun fired.

Sam fell to the floor just as the penny fell from Dean's hand.

"Sam?" Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. He wasn't sure what had just happened. It had all been a blur, haze of darkness covering his mind. Dean eyes gaze fell on the bright, fresh blood spilling from his brother and he froze. "Sammy?"

Sam blinked, hands clutching at the wound on his stomach. He could feel the warm blood trickling out from between his fingers. Dean had shot him. His brother had shot him. He wasn't sure whether the physical pain or emotional pain was worse.

Garth grabbed his phone with shaky hands and dialed 911 as he barreled over to Sam's side. He fell to his knees beside him, one hand going to the blood pouring out from Sam.

"Hang on, Sam," Garth said. "Yes, we need an ambulance, 91 East Pinnacle Road. My friend's been shot."

The haze in Dean's mind finally began to clear. He dropped the gun and ran to Sam's side. He stripped off his jacket and balled it up, pressing it to the wound on Sam's stomach. Sam's eyes squeezed shut at the pressure to the wound, and he groaned.

"Sam, talk to me, buddy," Dean said. He needed to hear Sam's voice, to hear that he was okay. "Sammy, please."

Sam's breath was getting harder and harder to catch. No matter how hard he pulled for air it wasn't enough. The world felt like it was growing dark. He could hear Dean pleading with him in the background, begging for him to answer. If he could just catch his breath, he could tell Dean how sorry he was, that he never meant to ruin his life like he had.

"Dean..." Sam whispered his name. "I'm sorry." It wasn't everything he wanted to say, but it was all his strength could afford.

Dean brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes. Sam blinked tiredly, slowly bringing his gaze to meet Dean's, whose eyes were brimming with tears.

"You listen to me, Sam," Dean commanded. "You're going to be all right. You hear me? You're going to be fine."

"'kay," Sam mumbled, not really sure that Dean was grasping how close to death he was. Sam could feel the darkness seeping in around the edges of his mind.

Garth suddenly stood and looked around the room. The ambulance and probably police were only minutes away and the gun was lying in the center of the room. There were going to be questions and they would need answers.

A flash of blue lights caught his eye and then the door was being kicked open. Two police officers came into the room, guns drawn.

"Put your hands up," the smaller of the officers said.

"I'm going to reach for my ID. I'm a Texas Ranger and they're FBI. We caught a robbery in progress. The guy pulled a gun and shot one of the agents."

The two officers exchanged glances. "All right," the shorter officer said. "Just move slowly."

Sam gasped and Garth looked over his shoulder at him. He was pale and his skin was beginning to grey. One of the officers cleared his throat and Garth looked back over at him. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out his ID, holding it up for them to see.

"Texas Ranger, see?"

The cops lowered their weapons and stepped forward. One of them reached for his radio. "How much longer on that ambulance? We have an officer down."

A second later, the red lights of the ambulance could be seen through the window.

Dean looked up and saw the paramedics coming into the room. They quickly pushed him to the side.

"We got this, sir," one of the medics said. "Just take a step back."

Stepping back was the last thing on Dean's mind. He didn't want to leave his brother's side. He was dying in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it.

More officers poured into the room and one came to Dean's side and pulled him back to give the medics more room. Dean tensed and shook the officer off.

"I'm not leaving him," Dean said.

"You don't have to, but you need to let them work."

Garth walked over and stood beside Dean. "Come on, Dean. They've got this. He's in good hands."

Dean nodded shakily. "Yeah, all right."

The paramedics loaded Sam onto the stretcher and carted him out of the room. Dean and Garth followed close behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fell on Black Days—Chapter Two**

The waiting room TV whispered quietly in the background, adding to the hum of the busy hospital. Sam had been in surgery for hours now, hours that Dean had spent pacing the small room. Garth had tried to get him to settle but he couldn't. There was too much on Dean's mind. Dean couldn't remember what had led to Sam being shot and Garth had yet to tell him.

Garth sat in the chair by the TV, fiddling with his wallet. Every now and again he would look up at Dean and wonder whether to tell him just how bad things were before Sam was shot.

"Dean," Garth said.

Dean spun on his heel. "Yeah?"

"He's gonna be all right."

"You don't know that," Dean said.

"Well no, but I know Sam, and he's a fighter. He'll pull through."

Dean wanted to tell Garth to shut the hell up but he couldn't. Garth looked fragile as it was, and Dean knew it wouldn't take much to break him.

"How much longer you think?" Dean asked. "It's been hours."

"Dean, about what happened back there, with Sam, the things you said—"

There was a knock and Dean looked over to see a tired looking doctor standing in the doorway. "Mr. Hudson?"

"Yeah. How is he?"

"He's out of surgery and doing well considering. The bullet entered at an angle, and unfortunately we had to remove his left kidney."

"But he's going to be all right?" Dean asked.

The doctor was quiet for a moment. "He's a fighter. He's in the ICU right now, but I think he's going to recover fully."

Garth breathed a sigh of relief. "When can we see him?"

"He won't be awake for a few more hours. Why don't you guys get some coffee and something to eat while you wait?"

"No, I want to see him now."

The doctor furrowed his brow. "I assure you he's in good hands."

"I don't care. I need to be there when he wakes."

The doctor looked at him for a moment and then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally he waved a hand in the air, shaking his head. "It's against regulations, but I suppose we can make an exception. Follow me."

The doctor led them to the ICU.

"I'll have the nurse bring in another chair," the doctor said before leaving the room.

"Thanks, doc," Garth said.

Dean looked over Sam. He didn't look any better than the last time he saw him, in fact, he looked worse.

He was shirtless, and his stomach and part of his side was covered in gauze. There were tubes coming off of him in all directions, and the only thing Dean could think was how thankful he was his brother was still alive. He didn't know what he would do without him. He was a part of him.

Garth watched Dean as he dragged one of the chairs over and sat down beside the bed. Carefully, Dean took Sam's hand and placed it in his own. Dean's head fell in a bow and he sat silently.

There was a knock at the door and a moment later a nurse popped in dragging a chair. Garth shot up and went over to help her.

"Here, let me," Garth said with a smile.

The nurse smiled back at him. "Thanks," she said. She looked over at Dean and Sam and then back at Garth. "Why don't I get you guys some coffee?"

"Thanks, that would be great," Garth said.

The nurse left the room and Garth pulled the chair over to the window. He took a seat and watched Dean, wondering just how he was going to tell him the horrible things he'd said.

Sam's hand felt limp and cold in Dean's. Dean rested his head against the bedrail and closed his eyes, trying to imagine just what he had said and done to Sam before the shooting. It was like a bad dream. A lot of bad things had happened to them in the past, but he never thought that he would be the reason Sam was lying in a hospital bed, shot and missing a kidney.

There was a knock at the door and the nurse came in carrying two cups of coffee. Garth jumped to his feet to take the cups from her, smiling broadly as he did.

"Thanks for taking such good care of us," Garth said.

"He should be waking any time now," she said, walking over to the IV stand and checking the bag. "I'll be back in a bit to change this out. If he wakes before that, let me know. We don't want him in any pain."

"Thanks, darling," Dean said.

Dean watched the clock. It seemed like time was moving even slower the more it passed. It had been an hour since the nurse had been in, and Dean was beginning to worry. Sam hadn't even stirred.

"Garth," Dean said, looking over his shoulder at him.

"Yeah, Dean."

"What happened back there?" Dean asked.

Garth sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't think there's any good way to tell you."

"Well, try," Dean snapped. "Spit it out."

Garth go up and began pacing the room. Dean watched his every move like a hawk.

Garth stopped in the middle of the room and spun to face Dean. "You might have blamed him for some stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Well, everything really. Demon blood, the apocalypse, being soulless."

Dean felt sick at what he was hearing. "Is there more?"

Garth shrugged. "Well, you did shoot him."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, man. You told Sam that he'd left you to die over a girl and then you got all crazy with the gun, started waving it about. I tackled you and the gun went off."

"So it was an accident?" Dean asked, a feeling of relief coming over him.

Garth shrugged. "Maybe, but you were pointing it at him."

Dean raked a hand over his face. "I can't believe this is all happening."

"Look, Dean, it wasn't your fault. It was the penny."

"Yeah, but I let it control me. I should have fought it."

Garth shook his head. "Dean, man, you can't fight something like that."

"You did. I saw you pick up the penny. It didn't affect you."

"That's because I don't hold grudges," Garth explained. "I let it all roll off."

The hand in Dean's twitched, making him jump. He looked over at Sam and saw him beginning to stir.

"Sam?" Dean said, giving his hand a squeeze. "You with me?"

Sam's brows knitted together and he groaned. His mouth felt dry and his eyelids were heavy. He tried to move but his limbs seemed stiff. He flexed his toes and moved his fingers. At least those were working.

As his mind began to clear the pain began to seep in. His whole midsection hurt. He went to move his hands, to feel his side, but something, someone, was holding his wrists.

"Easy, Sam," Dean said. "You don't want to pull your stitches."

"Hurts," Sam managed.

"I know. Garth is getting the nurse. She'll give you some of the good stuff, okay?"

"'kay," Sam murmured. It really wasn't okay. It hurt like hell.

Garth followed the nurse back into the room.

She went straight to Sam's side and began checking him over.

"He said it hurts," Dean supplied.

The nurse nodded and disappeared out the room, only to reappear a moment later with a syringe. She injected the contents into the port on the IV, and within moments, Sam was relaxing.

"He needs to rest," she said. "Why don't you guys head home for the night? We'll take good care of him. I promise."

The idea of leaving Sam was abhorrent to Dean. He was just about to object when Garth spoke up.

"Yeah, I think we'll do that," Garth said. "We could all use a little rest."

Dean shot Garth a look that could kill. Garth just shook his head.

"Well, just leave your number at the nurse's station so we can call you if anything changes."

"Will do, ma'am," Garth said a bit too brightly.

As soon as she left the room, Dean charged over to Garth and grabbed him by the jacket. "What the hell was that about?" Dean snapped. "You want to leave him here?"

Garth put his hands up. "Easy, Dean. I don't need you choking me twice in one day."

"Out with it, Garth. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that we both need showers, and Sam's going to be doped up the rest of the night. We might as well get rested while we can."

Dean shoved him back. He jabbed a finger into Garth's chest. "Don't you ever think you can tell me what to do. I'm staying here with Sam, and that's the end of it."

"Okay, I'll bring you back a change of clothes in the morning, all right?"

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said, waving him off. "Just go."

xXx

Sam awoke the next morning to a nurse poking at him.

"Morning, sunshine," she said brightly. "It's good to see you awake."

Sam licked at his lips. "Thirsty."

"Hang on a sec, and I'll get you some water," she said.

A moment later, she reappeared in his vision holding a cup with a straw.

She placed the straw at his lips, and Sam drank greedily.

After he got his fill, he rested his head back down on the pillow. "Thank you."

"No problem," she said. "How the pain level?"

"Good," Sam said. "I mean I'm not in pain."

"That's good to hear," she said. "You woke a few times during the night."

"I did?" Sam said. "I don't remember."

"You were pretty out of it," she explained. "We seem to have gotten your pain under control now though. It should help you get some rest."

The nurse reached over and grabbed the call button and set it closer to Sam. "If you need me just press this button here, all right?"

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

"You get some rest."

As soon as the nurse left Sam noticed just how empty the room was. There was no Dean, no Garth. He was alone. He thought that maybe Dean would have been there, or at least come to check on him. He wondered if Dean had even followed him to the hospital or if he had just taken off in the Impala, needing to get away.

The door to the room creaked open and Sam tensed. He relaxed when Garth's familiar face peeked in.

"Hey there, Sam," Garth said brightly, stepping into the room. He closed the door behind him and walked over to the chair beside the bed, taking a seat.

Garth was relieved to see Sam awake. He had been worried sick. Dean had called him from the hospital early in the morning. He told him about Sam's fitful sleep and how he'd stayed up through the night with him.

"How are you feeling, Sam?"

Sam looked over at Garth and smiled weakly. "I'm okay. Bit thirsty though. Can you pass me that cup?"

Garth grabbed the cup. It was empty, so he refilled it from the pitcher of water on the nightstand. He moved to bring the cup to Sam's lips, but Sam stopped him.

"I'm not an invalid."

Garth smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're not."

Sam took the cup and brought it up to his mouth with a shaky hand. He still wasn't feeling completely himself, but he was better than he had been when he first woke.

Garth watched him ready to offer assistance if needed, but Sam managed fine. When he was finished, Garth took the cup and placed it back on the side table.

"Thanks," Sam said, laying his head back on the pillow.

"You all right, Sam?" Garth asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About anything good?"

Sam shrugged. Garth was a good guy but he wasn't about to open up to him about everything on his mind.

Garth studied him for a moment too long, and it made Sam squirm. It was like Garth was trying to read his mind, and for a second, Sam worried he was.

"Garth?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're staring."

Garth shrugged a shoulder. "You're wondering about Dean."

Sam tilted his head, looking Garth over carefully, wondering if maybe Garth did in fact have some hidden power. But either way, Sam didn't want to talk. He looked away, not wanting to risk Garth seeing the pain on his features.

"I think I'm going to take a nap."

"Sam, Dean is—"

"Just don't. I don't want to know."

"But Sam—"

Sam snapped his gaze back to Garth and glared at him. "I said I don't want to know. I get it. He doesn't want to be here. He made that clear enough."

"Would you stop being such a damned idjit for a minute and listen to what I've got to say?"

Sam clenched his hands into fists and looked away again. Garth seemed determined to make him face the truth no matter how much he didn't want to do it.

The door creaked open, and both he and Garth looked up. Dean stepped in the room, freshly showered and shaved.

Garth breathed a sigh of relief. Sam may not listen to him, but he sure as hell couldn't ignore his brother. Dean had a way of making people listen.

"Sleeping beauty awakes," Dean said with a smile as he walked over to Sam's bedside. Garth got up and made room for Dean to sit.

"How you feeling, princess?"

Sam wasn't feeling that great honestly, but he wasn't about to admit that to Dean. "All right."

Dean nodded. "Good. I talked to the doctor. He said you should be out of here within the week."

Sam looked down at his hands which were picking at the hem of the blanket. "So …"

"So?" Dean asked.

"Why are you here?"

Dean face went tight. He looked at Sam like he had just sprouted another head. "Because you were shot," he said slowly. "Where else would I be?"

Sam shrugged. "Never mind."

"Sam?"

Garth walked over and patted Dean on the back. He could see how upset Sam was becoming and rallied for a change of subject. "So I got us a place. I called around and found a cabin about three hours from here. It's a bit of a drive but it should be worth it."

Dean looked over at Garth and shook his head before bringing his gaze back to Sam. "Sam, we need to talk about this."

"Dean, I just … We don't need to talk about it, okay? I get it."

Dean looked at him carefully. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."


	3. Chapter 3

**Fell on Black Days-Chapter Three**

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. The doctor was beginning to ask too many questions and so were the police. They wanted to file a report with the agency about the shooting, and that was something Dean knew would blow their cover.

It had only been a day since Sam had woken up, but he was able to get around. As much as he hated the idea of pulling Sam out of the hospital early, he knew it was time. They didn't have another choice. He only hoped they could keep Sam comfortable on the journey.

"Garth, you're gonna need to make a distraction," Dean said.

Garth frowned. "Why?"

"We need to get out of here. The police are coming back in an hour, and they expect us to file a report."

"Balls," Garth cursed.

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly."

"Do you think he's ready to travel?" Garth raised his brow. "Because I don't know, Dean."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "No, probably not, but what choice do we have?"

Garth nodded. "All right, let's do this. I'll get some supplies and load the Impala. I'll meet you back here in a few. You'll know when I'm ready."

"Sounds good. See you soon, buddy."

Sam pushed himself up in the bed and made his way over to the toilet. Never had he thought such a simple thing would be such an accomplishment.

When he was finished, he washed his hands and slowly made his way back towards the bed. Dean and Garth had left him for a few minutes and Sam was thankful. He needed a break from their constant hovering.

He thought back to the things Dean had said. No matter how much he wanted to blame the penny, he knew that Dean had been part of the things that he'd said. Sam knew he was a failure.

Sam took a seat on the edge of the bed and caught his breath. The simple walk had exhausted him.

The door creaked open, and Dean came in, shutting the door quickly behind him. He had that look, the one that meant something was up and it was no good.

"Dean?"

"I hate to do this to you, Sam, but we've got to hit the road."

Sam's brows pinched together. "Umm, I'm not sure you've noticed, but I was shot."

"Yeah, I know, but the police are starting to ask too many questions. We need to get out of here. So, throw a shirt on, we're leaving."

"Where's Garth?"

"Getting some supplies. He'll be back in a minute."

Suddenly the fire alarm went off, making both of the boys jump. "What the hell?" Sam said.

"I think that would be Garth. I told him to make a distraction."

Dean grabbed the robe from the chair and tossed it to Sam. "This will do."

Sam struggled to get his arms in the holes. Each pull of his side made him wince. He hadn't had a dose of pain medication in a few hours.

Dean saw how much Sam was struggling, and he walked over to the bedside to help. "Here let me," he said.

Gently, Dean worked Sam's arms into the sleeves and pulled it around him. He noticed how pale Sam still looked, and he wondered if they were doing the right thing after all.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam didn't feel like he deserved Dean's sympathy. He didn't want him worrying about him. He deserved all he got.

"I'm fine," Sam said, despite the dizzy feeling that was overtaking him.

Dean studied him for a moment and then nodded. He could tell that there was something more going on with Sam, but he just didn't know what, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just physical.

The door opened, and Garth came charging in with a wheelchair. "Your chariot awaits."

Sam pushed himself up to his feet, and Dean stayed close to his side, keeping a hand on his back to steady him.

With Dean pushing the wheelchair, they made it to the car in record time.

"Easy, Sam," Dean said as he helped lower his brother into the backseat.

Sam was sweating now, and his heart was pounding. The pain was getting to be too much, and he was having trouble holding it together.

With his last vestiges of strength, he managed to pull himself across the bench seat and lay down on his back.

Garth appeared holding a blanket, and Dean took it, covering Sam up carefully.

Dean could see the pain etched on Sam's features, and he knew it was his fault the pain was there.

"Let's hit the road," Dean said.

Two hours later, they were nearly to the cabin. Sam wasn't faring well though. The pain was getting to the point that his vision was blurring. The constant jostling of the car was killing him.

He gritted his teeth and tried to bite back a moan, but it wasn't enough stop the pained sound from escaping.

The car slowed and then came to a halt. Tears began to prick at the corner of Sam's eyes, and a painful sob broke from him.

The car door opened and then Dean was there, hands gently touching and brushing the hair out from his eyes.

"Garth, pain meds now!" Dean snapped. "Easy, Sam. You're going to be all right. Garth is getting you the good stuff."

Sam tried to nod but the motion made his stomach churn. It was just all too much, too much sensation, too much pain. He felt so sick. If only the blackness would envelop him completely, he could get some rest.

Warm calloused hands cupped his face, and he tried to focus on the feeling. Sam heard the trunk close and then the hands were gone. A tear ran down Sam's cheek.

"Hurts," Sam whimpered.

"Hang on." Dean's hands shook as he tried to prepare the injection. Being careful not to put pressure on Sam, he climbed into the backseat and tugged Sam's pants down enough to expose his hip. He injected the drug quickly. "Try to breathe, Sam. It will get better in a second."

Sam's face was pale and sweaty, his brow tight. "How much longer till we're there?"

"Not much. An hour maybe."

Sam nodded. "'kay." The medication was beginning to work, and although the pain was still there, he didn't seem able to focus on it anymore. It was distant now. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Dean climbed out of the car and stood looking over Sam. He looked so broken. Dean hated seeing him in pain. He would give anything to take it away.

Dean and Garth got back into the car and began to head toward the cabin. Garth assured Dean that it would be all set up with what they needed. Apparently, a friend of one of Garth's contacts was a nurse, and she had set up the cabin with everything they would need.

"Should we let him sleep a bit longer?" Dean asked as he pulled the car to a stop at the remote cabin.

Garth rubbed the top of his head. "He's going to have one hell of a backache if we let him. He's all scrunched up back there."

"Yeah. I can remember when he was a kid and would actually fit back there, but that was a lifetime ago now."

Dean got out and made his way over to the door closest to Sam's head. He opened it slowly and then squatted down. He ran a hand through Sam's hair gently.

"Hey, Sasquatch, time to wake up."

Sam stirred a little and then groaned. Dean continued to gently run his fingers through his hair.

Sam drew a shaky breath. He moved to stretch but stopped when the pain in his side flared. "God that hurts."

"I bet. Now let's get you outta here and into the house. Garth says there's a nice comfy bed in there with your name on it."

Dean helped Sam out of the car and towards the cabin. The steps were a challenge, and Sam had to lean heavily on Dean as the made their way up them.

The cabin was nicer than Dean had imagined. It was even carpeted. There was a beautiful stone fireplace in the sitting area. The chairs and couches were a deep brown leather. It was like something out of a magazine.

Sam snuggled down into the soft bedding and closed his eyes. He awoke an hour later feeling physically better, but emotionally, he was still wrecked.

He couldn't get the things Dean had said out of his mind. Dean may have been a puppet, but the things he said came from inside him. He felt those things about Sam, and some part of him wanted Sam gone from his life. He was a hindrance, plain and simple.

There was a tap at the door and then Dean walked in. "Hey, I just made some food if you want to come join us? The nurses said it was important that you got on your feet."

"Easier said than done."

"Do you want some help?"

Sam contemplated Dean's offer, but then shook his head. He didn't want to bother Dean any more than he had to. "I've got it."

Moving slowly, Sam made his way out of the bedroom. Dean hovered like a mother hen as he did. Sam wished he would stop worrying.

Dean watched Sam make his way to the table. Every time Sam began to waver on his feet, Dean's heart would jump.

Sam was almost to the table when he paused and wrapped a hand across his stomach. Dean was quick to his side, hand gently coming to rest on his back.

"I think I might have overdone it," Sam said through pants.

Dean lifted Sam's arm and placed it over his shoulders. "Change of plan. Let's get you to the couch. It's closer."

Sam nodded and allowed Dean to guide him over. Carefully Dean lowered him down to the couch.

"Damn it, this hurts," Sam groaned.

Dean walked over and grabbed the footrest, dragging it closer. "Here, put your feet up."

Sam tried to lift his feet but it pulled on his stomach. He didn't want to ask Dean for help, but it seemed his brother knew. Dean swept his feet into his arms and lifted them up, placing them on the footrest.

"There, that's more like it," Dean said triumphantly. "Nice and cozy. You just need a blanket and you'll be set."

"Dean, you don't have to take—"

Dean put up his hand, stopping him. "Listen, there's nothing wrong with needing a little help. It's the least I can do, since, you know, I shot you."

Just at the reminder of it, Sam couldn't stop replaying those few moments in his mind. The look on Dean's face. Even when Sam was possessed by Lucifer, he had managed to overcome it to protect Dean, to save him. Anything could be overcome if you wanted to enough. And it was clear that Dean hadn't tried to fight it. He'd just gone along for the ride. Sam couldn't help but wish he had bled out on the floor. At least then he wouldn't have to watch Dean struggle to make amends for something that in all honesty Sam deserved.

Garth appeared carrying a tray of food and set it down on the coffee table.

He smiled brightly at Sam. "You ready for some grub?"

Garth reached down and grabbed the plate of food. Sam looked over it carefully. He wasn't sure who had prepared it but it didn't look like it would kill.

He took the food and began to nibble on it, but after a few bites, his stomach began to protest, and he stopped.

Dean gave him a concerned look. "You okay?"

"I'm just not that hungry."

"You need to eat something," Dean said.

"And I did." Sam motioned to the plate.

Dean shook his head and grabbed the plate from Sam. "We're trying again in a little bit. You're already skinny enough."

Sam rolled his eyes and yawned. "Whatever, Dean. It's not a big deal. I'm just not feeling well."

"You're sick?"

"No, I'm just feeling a bit sore."

"Garth, can you—"

"Already ahead of you, Dean. I've got the pills right here." Garth handed Sam two pills and a glass of water.

"Thanks," Sam said.

"No problem, buddy," Garth said with a crooked grin.

"If it's all right with you guys, I'm going to take a quick nap."

Dean patted Sam's foot. "Get some rest. Garth and I need to talk anyways."

Once Sam was soundly asleep, Dean took Garth aside.

"We really need to get a doctor up here to check him over. I don't like not knowing what's going on with him."

"It's only been a few days, Dean."

Dean raked a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know, but this isn't something we should be guessing at."

"Tell you what. I've got a contact or two that I can try to get on the line. Maybe one of them can make a trip up."

Dean nodded. "All right, sounds like a plan."

Dean returned to the living room and watched his sleeping brother, wishing there was a way he could take all the pain away.


	4. Chapter 4

Fell on Black Days—Chapter Four

"So, this doctor guy of yours," Dean said, "is he any good?"

Garth shrugged. "Well, technically he gave up the doctoring life for hunting years ago, but he's still good. Bobby used to use him when his regular guy was out."

Dean wasn't all that reassured, but this guy would have to do. "What time did he say he would be here again?"

Garth checked his watch. "Should be anytime now."

An hour later, the doctor still hadn't showed. Dean was pacing the living room, growing more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by. Sam was sleeping again on the couch. Dean looked over at him every once in awhile, unable to stop worrying about him.

Finally, there was the sound of an engine outside and a car door being shut. Dean stopped in his tracks and grabbed his gun, just in case it wasn't who they expected.

Garth ran to the window and peered out. "It's him."

"About time," Dean said, walking over to the door. He opened it up, and a burly looking man with an overgrown beard greeted him on the other side of it.

Dean's brow furrowed as he took in the state of the man in front of him. He looked like he belonged in Deliverance. There was no way Dean was letting this man near his brother.

Garth pushed past Dean and smiled at the man. The man nodded at him. "Garth, good to see you, boy."

"Doctor Barter," Garth said.

"How many times have I got to tell you? Call me Ken. I stopped going by doctor years ago."

"Well this reunion is great and all, but I think we're all set," Dean said. This guy wasn't coming within another foot of his brother.

"You might think so," Ken said. "But from what I hear, your bother is missing a kidney, and you didn't let the boy stay in the hospital near long enough. Did you even give the docs a chance to explain what living without a kidney would mean, the risks that go with it?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Well, no."

"Then it's simple. You need someone to check over your brother, and I'm here, so you might as well let me in."

The doctor didn't wait for invitation. He pushed his way past Dean and into the cabin, a beaten, old canvas duffel on his shoulder.

"Make yourself at home why don't you," Dean snapped at the doctor, who was already making his way over to Sam.

Dean walked over and stood beside the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

"How long he's been sleeping?" Ken asked.

"A few hours. It's his new favorite pastime. He's been asleep more than he's been awake."

"Understandable given the situation. Has he been getting up and moving around?"

Dean shrugged. "As much as he can I guess."

"Well, he needs to stay active. Otherwise he risks blood clots, and that's nothing to be messed with."

Sam began to stir, and a moment later, he was blinking wearily as he looked around the room. His gaze fell on an unfamiliar face and he jumped, pulling the stitches on his side.

"Easy, Sam," Dean said as he came around into Sam's line of sight. "He's here to help. Believe it or not, he's apparently a doctor."

Sam pushed himself up. "You called a doctor? When? Why?"

"That's what me and Garth needed to talk about yesterday."

"Yeah, but why? I mean, granted I was shot, but I'm doing pretty well I think."

"You call sleeping 24/7 doing well? Moaning in pain every time you move wrong? The fact I haven't seen you eat or drink anything other than enough to feed a toddler."

"You're worrying over nothing, Dean."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, actually, Sam, you're not fine. There's a lot I think we need to check, and if you're not taking in fluids you could be damaging yourself further."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, guys. Really."

"If that's the case then you won't mind me checking you over," the doctor said as he reached for his duffel.

Sam glared at Dean who shrugged. "It won't take long, right, doc?"

Ken grunted as he unceremoniously dumped the contents of his duffel on the floor.

"Okay, kiddo, let's get this show on the road," he said as he snapped on a pair of gloves.

xXx

"Well it's a good thing you called me," Ken said as he walked into the kitchen where Dean and Garth were waiting. "He has an infection."

"Shit," Dean cursed. "How bad is it?"

"Well, lucky for you, I brought a bit of everything with me. I've started an IV and given him some antibiotics. It should clear this up. But the real question is, have you thought about the future?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hunting, or should I say, not."

"I don't get where you're going with this, doc. I thought Sam was going to be all right."

"He is, but with only one kidney, he's at a greater risk. If he takes a blow on a hunt and messes that puppy up, he's done for."

Dean put a hand up, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "So, you mean to tell me that hunting is out? Have you told Sam this?"

"No, not yet. He's already got enough on his plate right now. I don't want stress the kid out anymore then we have to just yet."

Garth shook his head. "I don't like this. I don't think we should keep this away from Sam. He needs to know."

"The doc's right," Dean said, glancing over at Garth. "He doesn't need to know yet."

Sam lay in bed, fresh bandages covering his side and an IV in his arm. This wasn't how he'd planned on spending the day, getting poked and prodded.

He felt more useless now than he did before. He stared off at the ceiling and thought back to the things Dean had said to him, how true they were.

He had done so much wrong, and there was no way he could easily make amends. The demon blood, siding with Ruby, killing Lilith, and his newest failure, Amelia. Dean was right. He had chosen a girl over him. He should have looked. He should have tried. But he hadn't. He just walked away while his brother suffered, and now he had to find a way to live with knowing what he'd done.

Tears pricked at his eyes and he drew a shaky breath. Part of him just wanted it all to be over. If only he could get back to the hunt.

There was a soft rap on the door and Sam looked up.

Dean was standing there, face tight. Sam knew that he was probably just as annoyed by this setback as he was. Dean was never the nursemaid type, and having Sam laid up and useless had to be hard on him. Sam swore to himself that he would try to do everything he could to make it as easy as possible on Dean, even if it meant hiding his pain.

"How you doing?" Dean asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Sam pushed up in the bed. "I'm feeling pretty good. Seems the doc, Ken I mean, knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, I told Garth he looked like he crawled out of Middle Earth. Just hand him an axe and call him Gimli."

Sam smiled and shook his head.

Dean pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed. "So, I wanted to talk to you."

Sam's brows pinched together. He didn't think there was much to talk about. Everything was pretty clear. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just, I haven't really had a chance to say I was sorry, for you know, everything that happened."

"There's nothing be sorry for. You only said the truth. Can't blame you for that."

"Sam—"

Sam put up a hand. "Don't try and say it wasn't, because we both know it was. I did all those things. I brought it on."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "You know, you're more like Dad than you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That sometimes you can be too damned stubborn and thickheaded for your own good!"

Sam looked away, trying to hold his emotions in. He could feel himself breaking at the seams.

Dean berated himself for letting his frustration get the better of him. He hadn't meant to snap at Sam. In fact, he had meant to come in and make amends. The guilt he felt for shooting Sam was practically a physical entity weighing him down.

"Sammy," Dean said, stepping forward. He tried to place a hand on Sam's arm, a simple gesture of comfort, but Sam didn't let him. He pulled his arm away like it had been burned.

"I'll let you get some rest," Dean said as he stepped back.

Sam nodded but kept his gaze on the blanket.

When Dean came back to the kitchen, he found Garth and Ken in deep conversation. Garth had a notebook and pen and was taking notes. Ken was explaining to him what Sam would need.

Dean walked past them and out the door. Once outside he began to walk. He stumbled on an old woodshed and walked over to it. He pushed the old door and it fell to the ground with a thud. He stepped inside and looked around. He needed to take out his frustration in the only way he knew how, through destruction.

His gaze fell on an axe that was hanging on the wall. He stepped around the old cardboard boxes and reached for it.

He felt the weight in his hands and nodded. It would do. Without another thought, Dean pulled the axe up past his shoulder and swung it. Hit by hit he destroyed the contents of the shed. Only stopping when his arms ached too much to pick it up again.

Exhausted, Dean dropped the axe and fell to his knees. He hung his head and a tear rolled down his cheek.

xXx

A week passed and Sam was doing better. The infection was clearing and the incision was nearly healed. The doctor left and headed back to whatever hole he'd crawled out of, which Dean was thankful for. The guy had been good, but Dean didn't like more people than necessary hanging around. He already had Garth to contend with.

Dean sat at the table, tapping away at the laptop, when he heard the soft padding of footsteps. Dean looked over his shoulder as Sam walked into the room. "Hey. How was the shower?"

"Good," Sam said, walking over and taking a seat in the chair beside Dean. "What you looking up?"

"Nothing much," Dean said closing the laptop. He didn't want to tell Sam that he was researching kidney loss. It would only worry him. "So, how you feeling?"

Sam raked a hand through his hair. "Good," he said. "Really good in fact. I was thinking we could start looking into finding a case."

Dean's heart jumped into his throat. "Hunting? Already? You were shot, Sam. That isn't something you just get over."

"I know, Dean. But I'm feeling good. At least we could take a look, see what we can find."

Dean shook his head. "No, no hunting. You're still healing, and you can't risk getting hurt."

"We've gone back to the job with worse before. What's the big deal?"

"Sam, I said no and I meant it. We're not hunting, so just chill!"

Sam understood. Dean didn't trust him on the hunt, and Sam couldn't blame him.

"Yeah, okay," Sam said. "No hunting." He drew a shaky breath and pushed himself up from the table. "I'm going to go out for some air."

"Sam, listen—"

"It's okay, Dean. I get it."

Sam walked over to the couch and slipped on his shoes. Grabbing his coat, he headed out the door.

Dean watched the door close behind his brother. He raked a hand over his face. Everything he said to his brother seemed to come out wrong.

"Hey, Dean," Garth's voice came from behind him. "Where's Sam?"

Dean lifted his head, nodding toward the door. "He went for a walk. I screwed up again."

Garth took a seat beside him. "What happened?"

"He wanted to hunt. I snapped at him, told him no."

"You told him about the kidney thing?"

"Well, no. I didn't get that far. I got scared when he said he wanted to hunt. I kinda of shut him down before he could say anymore."

"You know, Dean, you're going to have to tell him about hunting. Keeping secrets is only going to make things worse. When he finds out you've been keeping it from him, he's going to flip."

"Yeah, I know, man," Dean rubbed his brow. "I hate lying to him too, but I just don't know how to tell him." But there was more to it than that. Dean was afraid that Sam would leave him for good if hunting was out. There would be nothing left to keep them together. Dean didn't know how to function without his brother by his side.

Sam walked down the side of the road, not really caring where he was going. He just wanted to get away. Everything he did seemed to be wrong in Dean's eyes. He wished he knew what to do to make things better between them.

His side pulled as he walked. The incision was nearly healed, but it still ached deep in his side. He rubbed his hand across his side. He would need to stop to rest soon.

The distinct sound of the Impala's engine could be heard in the distance. It made Sam's brow furrow in confusion. He didn't know where Dean could be going.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Sam. He hadn't gotten far, not that he had expected him to have on foot. But he knew by his brother's posture that his side was hurting him. It made Dean feel even guiltier. He had been the one to chase Sam off and now he was in pain because of him.

Dean pulled the car over beside him and leaned over to roll down the window. "Get in."

"Are you all right?" Sam asked, not really sure what was going on with Dean. It wasn't like Dean to come after him.

"Just get in. We need to talk."

Sam looked at him skeptically, but nodded and got in anyway. "What's up?"

Dean rubbed his palms nervously over his jeans. "I don't know a good way to put this, so I'm just going to spit it out." Dean looked over at Sam. He knew what was to come would hurt his brother, but it had to be said. Garth was right; secrets would only cause more problems. "I've been keeping something from you. I talked to the doc. He had some bad news."

"About?"

Dean looked at him sympathetically. "He doesn't think it's safe for you to be hunting with only one kidney, and I agree."

The news hit Sam like a physical force. It knocked him back in the seat. No matter how he tried to make sense of the words, he couldn't. If by a miracle he wasn't a burden to Dean already, he would be now.

He tried to think of something to say but he was at a loss.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam stared straight ahead. "Yeah, umm, all right." He looked over at Dean, keeping his expression neutral.

"All right?" Dean repeated like the words were foreign in his mouth. He had expected a lot of responses, but all right wasn't one of them.

"Yeah, it's fine, really. I just … Can we go back? The walk kind of wore me out." Sam was tired, but that wasn't the reason he wanted to get back. He needed to get away from Dean, from the car, from it all.

Dean studied him closely. "Sam, do we need to talk about this?"

"No, it's fine. I just need some time, all right?"

"Okay," Dean said. He was relieved that Sam had taken the news so well. He shifted the car into drive and spun around back towards the house.

Sam got out of the car without a word and made his way inside. Garth greeted him at the door, but Sam hurried past him, not ready to face his overly cheerful friend.

"Sam?" Garth called behind him. Garth could see the pain etched clear as day on Sam's features. It worried him. He wondered what had transpired between Dean and Sam.

Sam made his way to the bedroom. He shut the door and leaned against it. Everything was so wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to get better and then get back to the life, make amends for what he'd done. He wasn't supposed to be sick, be broken. How was he going to make things up to Dean now?

Tears began to prick at his eyes, and he wiped them away.

There was a knock at the door and Dean's voice on the other side of it. "You okay in there, Sammy?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm just going lie down for a while. My head hurts."

"You sure that's all?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Sam hated lying to Dean but there was no way he was going to be able to tell him what he was really feeling. He couldn't. Because the things he was thinking he knew would break his brother, even though Sam knew they were for the best.

He had to put an end to the pain his life was causing others, and there was only one way to do that for sure. He had to end himself.

It didn't come to him dramatically like some people might think it would. It came to him peacefully. It was like an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He finally had a way to fix every mistake he'd made. All in one simple gesture.

He walked over to the bed and lay down. He smiled sadly as he closed his eyes, finally knowing what he needed to do. He had to set Dean free.


	5. Chapter 5

Fell on Black Days—Chapter Five

It had been hours since Sam had shut himself in the bedroom. Dean couldn't imagine what it would be like to be told hunting was out. It was their life, even if Sam didn't always want it to be.

"Do you think you could chew a little louder?" Dean said, raising a brow.

Garth smiled. "Maybe."

Dean shook his head. "Do you think he's okay in there?"

Garth shrugged. "This no hunting thing, it's a lot to take in." Garth took a bite of his sandwich. "He probably just needs some time to think it over."

Suddenly the sounds of M.C. Hammer's Hammer Time came from one Garth's coat pockets.

Garth ran over to his coat and began to dig through it, checking phones as he pulled them out. Finally he got the one he wanted and he held it out triumphantly, sandwich still held in his other hand.

"Garth speaking," he said into the phone, chewing around the words.

Dean stood up and walked over to him. "Who is it?"

Garth waved him off. "Yep, uh huh. No, I'll check it out." Garth hung up the phone and stuck it back in his coat.

Dean looked at him quizzically. "Who was that? And what are you going to check out?"

"Mackey. He's tracked down a lead on a rugaru in the area. He got his hands full with a vamp nest at the moment, so he needs someone to take a look."

"You can't go up against a rugaru alone."

Garth shrugged. "There's no other way, Dean. Someone's got to do it."

"He's right." Sam's voice came from behind them. "We can't just look the other way while a rugaru is on the prowl."

"Sam," Dean said. "Whatever you're thinking, it's a no."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I know I can't hunt. I get that. But that doesn't mean you can't."

"You want me to leave you here alone?" Dean said slowly.

"Yeah. Why not? I can get around just fine now."

"Sam …" Dean sighed. "What if something happens?"

"Like what? I'll be fine, Dean. Don't worry about me."

Within an hour, they were all packed and ready to go. Dean was just about to get into the Impala when Sam stopped him. Dean couldn't help but notice how different Sam looked; his face was drawn like he was in pain.

"What's up? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just … I want to say I'm sorry, Dean. For everything. I never meant to cause you, cause everyone, so much pain."

"What are you talking about?" Dean's brow furrowed.

Sam shook his head. "Just don't worry about it, okay? It's just something I needed to say, something I needed to know you heard." He reached out and patted Dean's shoulder. "You better get going before dark."

Dean shook his head. "Sometimes I don't get you. You know that right?"

Sam smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know."

Dean got in the Impala and rolled down the window. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

Sam nodded. "Goodbye, Dean."

Sam walked slowly into the house. His thoughts were louder than he have would liked. His mind was pulling in two directions. Part of him, his instincts, begged him to stop, but the rational side of him knew he couldn't. This needed to happen to set Dean free. This was the final and most important decision he would ever make. He had to get it right.

He made his way to the bedroom and found his duffel that was lying on the floor beside the bed. He knew his gun was in it. He wasn't sure whether it was terror or anticipation but his hands began to shake.

As he got closer to the gun, he settled on terror. He was afraid. He could admit that. No matter how brave he could be, this was more frightening to face than any monster. He was facing himself. His own fears and giving up his life for another, for Dean. This was the end.

Dean reached over and turned off the radio.

He thought back Sam's apology, and it hurt him. He hated to think that Sam felt like he needed to apologize for anything. Sam may have made a few mistakes in the past, but they both had made their fair share. Dean knew he was as much to blame for the things that had happened as Sam. If Dean had been a better brother, Sam would have been able to come to him and wouldn't have felt like he had to hide.

"You okay?" Garth asked him.

"You ever have the feeling that something just isn't right?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just Sam. Something didn't seem right with him."

"He's seemed all right when he said goodbye."

Dean glanced over at Garth. That was it. Sam had said goodbye. Not like he normally would. More like he wasn't planning on seeing him again.

Dean hit the brakes and spun the car around. They needed to get back to Sam, and they needed to do it fast.

Sam swallowed hard as he held the weight of the gun in his hand. It seemed heavier than it ever had before. He hadn't put much thought into the where, and now that the time was so close, he needed to decide. He thought about the bedroom, simply sitting on the bed and pulling the trigger, but that was messy. No, he couldn't do that to Dean. Maybe the bathroom would be better, the shower. There the blood would just wash away.

It was decided then. Taking the gun he walked into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. It would all be over soon.

The car came to a grinding halt in front of the cabin and Dean went flying from the car.

"Dean?" Garth called behind him, but Dean didn't stop to answer. He had a horrible feeling in his gut that he knew what Sam was planning, and he had to get there to stop him.

Dean charged into the cabin. "Sammy!"

The barrel of the gun was cold as it pressed against Sam's temple. It would only take one movement, one twitch of a finger, and it would all be over. His trail of pain would end.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice came from what sounded like down the hall. It made Sam nearly drop the gun. Dean wasn't meant to be there. He was meant to be with Garth, miles away by now. "Sam! Where are you?"

Tears began to roll down Sam's cheeks. This wasn't supposed to end like this. Not with Dean.

He could hear the footsteps growing closer and he knew that it was now or never. He pressed the cold metal of the muzzle to his temple. The shakes from before were back, and he had to struggle to keep it in place.

There was a knock at the bathroom door and Sam was thankful that he had locked it. It would buy him the few extra seconds he needed. He closed his eyes and took a breath. His finger twitched on the trigger just as the door splintered open.

For one brief moment there was silence. The tension so thick it drowned out all else. And then it happened. A single bullet left the barrel, cutting the tension in the room in the worst possible way.

Sam fell back, Dean ran forward, and the gun clattered to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: So here it is. The last chapter. It's short and should be part of last chapter but I just wanted to separate them for impact. Sorry I haven't responded yet to all the wonderful feedback. I have read each and everyone and squealed with delight at them all. Thank you so much. I may, ****_may_****, do an epilogue. But so far the muse hasn't spoken to me. We will see. Thanks again my lovelies, Snarkymuch. And if you're looking for a good read, check out Clean Slate by Clowns or Midgets. I beta'd it and it's awesome. It's also completely written, so updates with come fast.  
**

**Fell on Black Days-Chapter 6**

The shards of wood rained to the floor around Dean. Time seemed to slow as he took in the scene. Sam in the shower, gun pressed to his temple, his face so stricken with pain.

Sam's eyes opened, and he locked gazes with Dean. His hand twitched, and he stumbled back, losing his footing. Just as he did, the gun fired, bullet grazing his head. Blood immediately began to flow from the wound above his eye.

Sam shook his head and pushed himself up, reaching for the gun again. Dean snapped into action and charged forward. He kicked the gun away from Sam and knelt down beside the tub.

"Sammy?" He reached out to touch the wound above Sam's eye, needing to know it was only skin deep.

Sam curled away from him. "I'm sorry, Dean. So sorry. You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to see."

"Jesus, Sammy." Dean ran a hand through his hair.

Footsteps came toward the bathroom, and Dean looked over his shoulder. Garth was standing there in shock. Dean put up a hand stopping him in his tracks. "Go get the first aid kit. I've got this."

Garth nodded and then disappeared.

The blood stung as it dripped into Sam's eye. He should wipe it away but he felt frozen where he was. Maybe he didn't care enough to do it. Everything had been so simple, and now it was another failure to add to the rest.

He hated the way Dean was looking at him, like he was so broken. Maybe he was. Maybe he was too broken to fix. If Dean would just let him go …

"What were you thinking," Dean said, reaching out to brush the hair out of Sam's eyes.

"I don't know … I hurt you so much. I ruin everything I touch. You're better off without me."

"I would never be better off without my brother."

"You said it, Dean. You said it all. Everything I'd done wrong."

"When? I would never … Wait, you mean with the penny? Sammy, that wasn't me. It may have used my memories, but it twisted them. It was trying to hurt you. I never meant, and I never will mean, the things it said to you."

Sam blinked away the tears in his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood.

"But—"

"But nothing, Sammy. You have to believe me. Just like I told you before, make it stone number one and build on it. You understand? I would never, ever, want to live without you in my life."

Sam looked up at Dean, and a sob broke from him. Dean leaned over the tub and grabbed his brother, pulling him into his chest.

"I'll take care of you, Sammy. We'll fix this." Dean pressed his lips to Sam's hair. "We'll fix this."

There was a soft knock, and Dean lifted his head to look. Garth was waiting with the first aid kit.

"Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Sam didn't say a word. He just let Dean help him to stand. Dean didn't break contact with him once as he led him into the living room.

Dean guided Sam to sit on the couch, and he took the first aid kit from Garth.

"We're going to need a towel. Make it a damp one. There's blood everywhere."

"Sorry," Sam whispered.

"Shh, no apologies, Sam. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I let you believe what that penny made me say. I ignored the signs something was wrong. If I had been a better brother, this would have never happened."

Garth appeared with the towel, and Dean took it from him. He gently began to wipe the blood away from Sam's face.

It made Dean's stomach want to rebel. The thought that this could have been so much worse. The thought of his brother's blood splattered across the bathroom made him want to sob. He fought back the painful feeling and focused on Sam's breathing, that he was alive and that they had gotten there in time.

The wound on Sam's head had nearly stopped bleeding. Dean opened the first aid kit and took out a piece of gauze. He dabbed at the cut.

"This is going to need a few stitches," Dean said.

Sam nodded mutely.

This was the one thing Sam didn't want to happen. He didn't want Dean to have to take care of him again. He didn't want to be a burden, and yet here he was, a burden in the worst way. He should have died.

Sam sat silently as Dean worked, not even wincing as the needle went in.

Dean tied off the last stitch and snipped the thread.

Sam looked down at his hands. Where were they supposed to go from here?

"Sam, we need to talk about this. There's no sweeping it under the rug this time."

"What do you want me to say?"

Dean ducked his head, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. "I need to know the truth, Sammy. Please tell me the truth. Are you planning on trying this again?"

Sam blinked. "I … I don't know. Honestly, Dean. I don't know."

Sam's confession hit Dean hard, and the painful lump returned to his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to stop himself from crying.

He just wanted to wrap his brother up in his arms and protect him from the world, but he knew that wouldn't be enough. Not this time. There was no way to protect Sam from himself.

"Sammy..." Dean reached out and ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "God, Sammy."

Sam choked back a sob. "I'm sorry, Dean. I never meant to hurt you."

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He leaned forward and grabbed his brother, pulling him close. Sam clung to him, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder.

"I'm never going to let you go," Dean said fiercely. "You go, I go. We're in this together."

"Dean..."

"No, Sammy. I won't live without you, not again. We're a package deal."

Sam nodded against him. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to, okay?" Dean said. "You just stick with me and you'll be all right. We'll get through this together."

Dean rested his cheek against Sam's head. It was going to be okay because there wasn't another option.


End file.
